First He Commanded the Battlefield, Now My Heart
by Valkyrei
Summary: When Alice is killed by the Volturi, Jasper is shattered. When he meets Tamsin, the dark girl with the darker past, will it be what he needs? Will she save him, or, when her past catches up with her again, will he end up saving her? Loving her, even?
1. Chapter 1

"Tamsin!" Mother screeched. "Get down here and bring your brother his breakfast!"

"You do it!" I yelled back, annoyed at the interruption.

"Do not make me count to three, young lady, or so help me God, I will throw that brand-spanking-new computer out onto the curb!"

"You'd have to pry it from my cold, dead fingers," I snapped, but quietly. I knew she would.

I stomped down the stairs in my combat boots, feeling a thrill of smugness that the sound of my footsteps echoed through the entire house, the light wooden stairs doing little to muffle the sound. Ah, sweet justice. Just one of the many perks of living in the attic.

I snatched the tray from the table, stuck my tongue out at mother's back, and turned to stomp back up the stairs.

"You're going to go to school in that? Really, Tamsin, I thought you wanted to make a good impression." I froze at the sound of her voice, rough from years of chain smoking after my fathers death, my spine going rigid.

"What other people think of me is none of my business," I snapped in defense of my black jeans, _Camp Kill Yourself _T-shirt, dragon necklace, blood red nail polish on my long nails, more like talons, fingerless gloves, skull earrings, and black jacket with all the buckles and zippers and pockets. Waterproof, of course. Non-leather. Vegan material.

I stomped back up the stairs, fuming. She knew why I dressed like this. To protect myself.

"You sound reasonable," she called after me, "Time to up the medication."

I stopped outside Andy's door and kicked a few times. Hard.

"Go away," the sleepy, gruff voice replied.

"Get the hell out of bed, loser, or I'm going to hawk a lugie in your orange juice," I snapped. Patience was not my forte. I snorted loudly, over-exaggerating the gesture so he could hear it. "I got a big one right here," I hollered through the spit in my mouth. The door swung open, revealing Andy, five o'clock shadow and messy hair.

He grabbed the tray and slammed the door, rolling his eyes. I ran to the end of the hall and spit out the window, then tromped back up the stairs and grabbed my black shoulder bag, stuffed my iPod into my pocket and then, more gently, slid my laptop ¾ complete with _Crime Scene: Do Not Cross _case with bloody handprints and bullet holes ¾ into its designated pouch.

My black ¾ duh ¾ Ferrari F430 Spider ¾ 250 L of Nitro, GT Engine, Carbon frame, ect. ¾ was sitting in the driveway, gleaming subtly in the muted light. Just looking at it could make me feel better.

I slid into the drivers seat, jammed the key into the ignition, and cranked it, greeted immediately with Haste the Day's "Chorus of Angels." Shifting gears, I was about to peal out of the drive and onto the dirt straightaway that led from the middle of nowhere to the "town" when the passenger side door swung open and Andy hopped into the seat next to me.

I swore. "What are you doing in my car, asshole," I snapped at him. He was still tucking his shirt into his kaki dress pants, but at least it was buttoned and he was clean-shaven.

"You're giving me a ride to work while my ride is at the shop."

"When hell freezes over twice in July," I snapped, "Now get out of my car before I relocate your nose around to the other side of your head."

He smirked, going for casual, but we both knew that I could flatten him in seconds if I wished. "Did the aliens forget to remove your anal probe?" he muttered, but quietly. "Mom said you had to give me a lift until I could get my own car, and if you didn't like it, you could move out."

I swore again and stomped on the gas, peeling around the turn with a screech. I drove to make Jeff Gordon proud. "I still can't believe that out of 100,000 sperm, you were the fastest."

The reason his car was in the shop was that he and a bunch of his friends were drunk and trying to impress some chicks so they had drifted the car right into a tree. He was lucky that he was still alive, nonetheless that his Mercedes hadn't been totaled. It was a nice car, too.

When I finally pulled up to the law firm where he worked he threw himself from the car before it had even come to a complete stop, not that I had planned on stopping anyways, and I didn't bother to look back as I floored it.

I was in such a bad mood that not even A Static Lullaby's rendition of Toxic by Britney Spears could cheer me up.

Then I actually got to school, and it all went downhill from there.


	2. Chapter 2

The second I pulled into the parking lot my car was almost instantaneously surrounded by admiring guys. The disgusting cretins. Seriously, hasn't anyone in this backwater town seen a Ferrari before?

I snarled at them, my lips curling back over my teeth. I had always been proud of the fact that my canine and eye teeth were long and sharp enough for people to notice.

"Get the" (insert swear word of your choice here) "away from my car," I hissed.

I gave them thirty seconds, just to weed out the smart ones, who, wisely, were intimidated by a glowering Goth chick who had muscles -- kickboxing and rock climbing were great -- and spikes. The rest stayed, and I warned them again. Let no one say that I was unfair. Well, unless you really deserved to have your ass kicked. "I have a shotgun, a shovel, and five acres behind the house. Do not trifle with me."

A few more, intimidated by the threat of actual force, scurried away, but the jocks -- they were obviously part of some sort of sport or club, because of their matching jackets -- gave me patronizing smiles. What, did they think they were bulletproof? 'Cause if they did, I would be only too happy to prove them wrong.

One, a cocky-looking blond with a crew cut and brown eyes, decided that I might be easy. "Hey, baby, you must be new here. How about I show you around, help you explore the terrain?" he said smoothly, hitching his hands in his pockets suggestively. A few of his friends laughed.

"That'd be really great," I hissed, my hands balling into tight fists at my sides. "But I don't date outside my own species."

He move closer, undaunted, his hands reaching for me.

"Did I mention the kick in the groin you'll be receiving if you touch me?"

Like most dumb jocks who don't believe a girl would actually be able to kill someone a hundred different ways using just a paperclip or my hands, he ignored me and put his hands right on my waist.

I moved, fast, fast, fast, recalling an amusing self-defense trick from _Miss Congeniality. _SING: Solar plexus, instep, nose, groin. I tried it. Elbow to the 'plexus, booted heel to the arch on the side of his foot, heel of the hand to the nose, knee to the groin.

"Bad Boy" went down, and didn't stir. "Ten seconds," I said cheerily, feeling better than I had in weeks. I loved fighting. It centered me in a way that meditation and writing and yoga and therapy could not. It gave me control, so no one could hurt me. It was nearly impossible to hurt someone if you were unconscious, and no one was ever going to hurt me again, that I would never be the victim. It gave me control, something I desperately needed. When I fought, I felt like I had control over my opponent, control over my environment, control over myself.

The rest of them scrammed, peeling the crew-cut kid off the asphalt as they went. I was a girl of my word, and wouldn't have attacked until I got to zero, though. I was a lot of things, and I would lie like a rug if I felt like it, but most of the time I tried to be honest.

I was humming to myself when I noticed a throbbing in my side and the side of my face. I thought back. I guess that he had been able to back-hand me pretty good, and land a solid punch on my ribs. I was a little disappointed that it hadn't lasted longer, but shrugged it off and grabbed my bag from the hood of my car, smiling at the beep it made when I locked it. I loved that sound. There was no threat of being told on: the male ego was fragile, and he wouldn't want anyone knowing that he had gotten his butt served to him on a platter by a girl.

I decided not to check in at the office. I didn't need to get my schedule because I had had them mail it to me the week before, so that was one awkward conversation I could skip.

My first class was earth science, which I enjoyed. The teacher didn't seem to care that much about high school drama and a new student, but knew his stuff, and must be firm about the classroom being just for learning because the kids didn't try to talk to me, and I had a seat in the back row. Looking good so far.

2nd period was worse, because by that time the bruise had started to show on my face, and the kids tried to talk to me, and the teacher made me introduce myself to the entire class, and it was Calculus, which is reason enough for me to absolutely loath it.

And I met Jasper Hale.

He was the only person who seemed to be absolutely shunned. There was a whole two-seat deep radius around him that was avoided, and he sat in the very back of the classroom, the corner opposite of the door. When I walked into the classroom, he stiffened, his hand gripping the underside of the desk, glaring at me with revulsion and contemptuous loathing hot enough to melt a glacier. I met his hot stare with a look cool enough to freeze lava, even though my insides were churning and I wanted to go home, curl up on the couch with a big tub of sherbet ice cream, and watch the entire Resident Evil trilogy. Instead of giving in, however, I cocked my head lazily to one side and trying to figure out why he looked so familiar. I was sure that I would have remembered someone so beautiful, which he was.

Then it hit me. Jasper Whitlock, from my book, _Dark Flame. _

_Okay..._ I thought warily,_ Either there is something in the water here that makes you crazy, or I really am schizophrenic._


	3. Chapter 3

The resemblance was uncanny - the curly golden hair, the perfect figure, the height - but there were differences, which was why I hadn't recognized him immediately. His skin was pale white, instead of tanned. His eyes were no longer brilliant silver, but, from a distance, looked black. His features, too, were more… perfect. Less human, more… well, more something.

But… it couldn't possibly be… there was no way… it was just a book. I hadn't felt the urge to add to it in ages. The flow of words and ideas had just stopped one night, right after he met these three girls outside of Houston…

I realized Mr. Dennis was speaking, and tore my eyes away from Jasper to look at him. "… can take a seat somewhere next to Mr. Hale. Here's your textbook. We're on chapter six."

I was about to move, but he called me back. "Oh, yes, Ms. Steele, please tell the class something about your self."

I froze, fidgeting. "Um, well, my name is Tamsin Steele, and I just moved here from New York…" Mr. Dennis made a rolling motion with his hand, so I continued. "And my favorite color is black."

There was absolutely no question where I was going to sit. I ambled past the rows of gawking students, some snickering at the eloquence of my introduction, to take the seat next to Jasper Whitlock - I mean Hale.

He shifted his chair as far from me as he could, his hand clenched into a fist on his knee, the tendons showing clearly. He was wearing a light grey cotton sweater - grey was Jasper Whitlock's favorite color - and dark jeans. What was with the guy? I knew I didn't stink. I hadn't slept at all last night, so I was still awake at five when I could take a shower.

There was just something so… so incredibly sad about him. I realized that the depression hovering about him like a cloud was the reason the other kids avoided him. I started speculating about why he was upset.

Most likely someone he loved died. Probably his lover.

_Right you are, Tamsin, _said the voice in my head. I jumped, knocking my book of the table where it hit the floor with a loud thud. No, a voice in my head is not normal for me, and now everyone in the classroom was staring at me.

"Sorry," I mumbled. Now, to add to it, the bruise on my face was starting to throb.

I glanced at Jasper, who was staring at me almost curiously, then looked away quickly from the frightening intensity of his black eyes. We were learning stuff I already knew from the schools in Buffalo, so this class shouldn't be too hard, even with my unasked for distraction.

When the bell rang, I shot to my feet, my book under my arm and my bag over my shoulder. Before the other kids had even really realized that I was leaving without being cross examined, I was gone.

But no matter how fast I had been, Jasper was faster.

I skirted the halls, looking for the gym, which wasn't hard to find. Coach Holt made me dress out and join, since his star player - Jasper Hale, of course - had left school early, claiming illness.

I changed into a pair of sweats and a dark colored Disturbed t-shirt with blood splatters and beveled writing. The other girls in the dressing room were trying to be subtle about sizing me up, but one of them, a traditionally beautiful, blonde-haired blue-eyed Barbie doll, flounced right up to me, sneering, and said, "Nice shirt, Goth freak."

I smile and give her my best don't-even-go-there smiles and said, "Nice shoes made by child slaves in Asia, materialistic Barbie."

Her sneer froze in place and she tossed her hair contemptuously before turning her back on me. "You're not worth the time."

"Translation: I can't think of a better comeback," I muttered.

"Ugh. Joy. I can't believe that I have gym with him too," I grumbled to myself as I stomped onto the field. Yeah, I know. One of the wettest places in the continental U.S. and we have outdoor gym. Great.

We were in the middle of the baseball unit, which kind of sucked, because I was more of a yoga-doing, swimming, rock climbing, indoor computer kind of girl, and my hand eye coordination was zip. Most days I could barley make it over a flat surface without falling on my face.

It seemed that everyone was impatient to size up and categorize the new girl, to see if she would fit in the sports chink, or the brains, or the preps, so, as my luck would have it, I did horribly.

When it was my turn to bat, I accidentally let go and it hit the batter-up right in the nuts, and when I was placed in the catchers position, to keep me out of the way, I assumed, I clumsily stumbled after the ball before finally cornering it against the fence. But, when I went to throw it back to the pitcher, I hit the new batter in the back of the head. **{A./N: Think Princess Diaries.}**

By the end of class, I was just so happy that I had set aside this special time to humiliate myself in public. Note the sarcasm. Just another service I offer to the public.

Fourth period history I had with two more scarily-beautiful people - Rosalie Hale and Emmett Cullen. Rosalie was one of those absolutely, incredibly beautiful people who put Botticelli angels to shame. I could almost feel the self-esteem level in the room lower with every breath that passed her full lips.

I, on the other hand, could feel the mud caked onto my hands and a lump of it in my hair. Mascara was smudged under my eyes, and my hair was knotted and frizzed.

But her beauty - the golden-haired, golden-eyed, porcelain skinned with the perfect proportions and the kind of body that made Nikki Reed **{A./N: FOr anyone who isn't obsessed with Twilight like I am, Nikki Reed is the one who plays Rosalie in the film. It's meant to be humorous to the omnipitent reader.}** look like a cow - wasn't the type of beauty I envied. I was happy to be me - the 5'7 Goth with weird hair and violet eyes. My face was sort of foxish, with a slightly upturned nose, cheekbones sharp enough to cut yourself on, and a neatly curved mouth. There was a light dusting of freckles on my nose and cheekbones, but they were fading from lack of sunlight. I suppose I would miss them; I always thought that a face without freckles was like a sky without stars.

But it was my eyes - wide and doe-like, a metallic, glowing violet, - that drew the eye. Not that my hair - so odd, a black base with white, black, red, silver, and few brown streaks thrown in for good measure. I used to dye it all black, it was so unusual, but after a while I quit. I didn't want my hair to fall out - or my clothing style didn't attract attention, but it was my eyes that drew the eye, so to speak.

And I had a teardrop pupil in my left eye. It's exactly like it sounds. My brother says that it looks like someone put too much black in the center of my eye and it spilled over. I'm pretty sure that people stare at it all the time, but it's kind of hard to tell, because people are supposed to look you in the eye. I don't even bother with contacts.

But, back to the the Cullen/Hale's. Emmett Cullen was huge, like a body builder, burly and tall. He had dark hair with a bit of a curl to it, and the same golden eyes and pale skin and perfect features as the new Jasper and Rosalie. I was starting to see a pattern.

Another class that I had already covered. It was going to be a long, boring rest of the year.

Finally it was lunch, and I went straight to the cafeteria, not stopping to put my books in my locker because A) I wouldn't be able to open it and eventually I would be reduced to shouting at it and hitting it, and someone would think that he would be able to get something out of the new girl and come try to help, and B) I was so hungry that my belly button was rubbing a blister on my backbone.

Unfortunately for my stomach and I, our class had gotten out a tad bit late, so the line was already fairly long. I tapped my foot impatiently, but it took so long that I broke down and pulled out my iPod.

Bloodwork by 36 Crazyfists instantly filled my ears, and I relaxed, letting my tapping slow to match the beat. I nearly went through an entire play list before all the kids finally finished chatting with the lunch ladies and cashier. I mean, come on. How much of a loser did you have to be to hold up an entire school just to ask a _lunch lady _about her cat. If I ever get like that, shoot me, please.

I piled food onto my plate, though I was limited by the lack of vegetarian-friendly dished. I didn't like salad, because it was for rabbits and dieting cheerleaders, and I fell into neither of those categories. So instead I got two slices of cheese pizza, a bottle of OJ, an apple, breadsticks, a bag of chips, and a cupcake.

I was only 98 pounds, because I had such a fast metabolism. I didn't binge or anything, I was just a bottomless pit when it came to food.

There was one empty table in the far corner of the room, tucked right up against the wall, and I made a beeline for it, quickly glaring down anyone who headed that way, effectively staking my claim.

If I had wanted, I could have watched everyone in the room, taken recon as you might say. But, instead of wasting time, I fell onto the food with the vigor of a wolf who hasn't made a kill in days.

Only after finishing my breadsticks, second piece of pizza and apple, along with half my orange juice, did I notice there was someone standing in front of my table.

I recognized his type immediately. Player, already had a girlfriend, scouting for the rest of his groupies to see if the new girl was easy.

"Is this seat empty?" he asked, already pulling out a chair.

I knew he would sit anyways, but I decided to be difficult. "Yes, and this one will be too, if you sit down."

He had chestnut hair and eyes, and was the tannest person I had seen since moving to this God-forsaken place. He must use spray-on. "Don't be like that, sugar buns. If I could rearrange the alphabet, I would put U and I together," he said, his eyes twinkling. Seriously, what was it with the guys here and cheesy come-ons?

I sighed. "And I would put F and U together. I will not be having sex with anyone in this place, I will not be having willing conversations, nor disclose any personal preferences or any other information about myself. I will not be making friends. I will not be having relationships of any sort. So go tell your friends that they have been let down."

He didn't miss a beat. "Why not?"

"You are validating my inherent mistrust of strangers,." I muttered darkly, then added, "That's the problem with the gene pool: there's no lifeguard."

He slid his chair around, and put his hand on the table next to mine. I slid away, and snapped, losing my patience, "Look, kid, I've been subtle, rude, and even offensive. Now it's time for me to be direct." I met his eyes with a glacier cold glare. "I don't want to talk to you, or anyone else in this hell-hole. Do you understand?"

He groaned, but his eyes were bright, like I had presented him an exciting new challenge, but didn't move his hand from mine. "If I throw a stick, will you leave?" I demanded, wrenching away from him. "I don't see how much more direct I can be: get lost, pup."

He finally took the hint: whether it was the look on my face or the way I was clenching my fist - the one with my father's Claddagh ring - two hands clasping a heart surmounted by a crown - but he left, his hands deep in his pocket.

I had just lifted my yummy-looking chocolate cupcake to my mouth when someone cleared there throat.

It was a guy, of course, and I glared at him, slowing my chewing. I was a bit surprised to see that he was dressed in baggy black pants, a black bomber jacket, and combat boots. He had a silver cross in his ear and a spiked bracelet.

"Is this seat empty?" he asked, already pulling out a chair. Rhetorical question. There was no bag or tray marking the spot, and honestly, did I really look like a people person? What was I, flypaper for freaks?

"No," I said, rolling my eyes, "And Conner will not be happy that you just sat in his lap."

"Conner?"

"Imaginary friend extraordinaire," I clarified, a half smile slithering across my lips.

He laughed, then pulled out another chair and gestured to it with a flourish. "Forgive me, my good sir, but I am afraid that I will have to be commandeering your seat by the lovely lady for the next¾" he checked his watch "five minutes."

I cocked my head to one side and pretended to listen for a reply. Despite my misgivings about strangers, I couldn't help but like this kid. There was something good about the twinkle in his eyes. He had dark hair cut short and a pair of dancing brown eyes. With a tip-tilted nose, a cleft chin, and a dusting of freckles, he looked like pure mischief.

I twisted the ring on my finger, thinking. In Ireland, Claddagh rings were a symbol of affection or love. They meant, with these two hands I give you my heart and crown it with my love. Did I really want to spend my high school as an outcast with no friends?

I straightened up and smiled, "That's okay with us." I stuck out my hand. "Tamsin Steele."

He took it, and his grip was firm. "Dallas Carlson. Charmed, of course."

Just then the bell rang, and I swore, chugging the last of my juice and stuffing half of the cupcake in my mouth as I rushed to class. The chips went into my bag; I would save them for later.

Dallas was the nicest person I had met all day.

Next I had literature. When the teacher, a Mrs. Trammell, did roll call, however, I discovered that I shared yet another class with Jasper. I suppose that it wasn't so shocking, seeing as there were only a hundred and thirty six people in the school. Lafayette was a little town full of little people.

Not literally small. Just small-minded.

She gave me a reading list and sent me to the only empty seat in the back of the classroom. It was uncomfortable with all the people twisting in their seats to get a better look at me, so I studied the list on my desk. It was all the usual: Shakespeare, Bronte, Blake, Hesse, Voltaire, Dante, Dickens, ect.

We were in the Shakespeare segment, the traditional _Romeo and Juliet. _But, because it seemed that the fog sucked the brains out of the students, we were only on the part where Romeo decides to visit Juliet at her estate, and it was the middle of the semester.

I nearly fell asleep over the book. Now that I had food in my stomach, it was even more apparent that I hadn't slept in almost thirty-six hours.

My photography class was a breeze. I was delighted to find that Dallas and I had at least one class together, and it seemed that the teacher was fond of him, because the second I walked into the room, Dallas jumped up and dashed over to me, and irrepressible grin on his face. He put an arm around my shoulder and whispered, "Here's when knowing me will pay off. Watch this."

"Mr. Blair?" he said, leading me over to the middle-aged teacher writing in a log book. "My partner, please? Transfer from NY. I want her."

Mr. Blair tried not to smile, but couldn't help himself. He shook his head at Dallas, and replied good naturedly, "You've got to play a little harder if you want the girls to like you. Right, transfer from NY?"

"Tamsin," I supplied quietly.

He scribbled something down on a seating chart, then looked back up and said, "Welcome, Tamsin, all I ask is that you keep him focused and quiet. For that alone I'll give you an A."

"I yak," Dallas said joyfully. He took my hand and began pulling me through the classroom, introducing me to the others. "Jason, Bob, Andrea, Jessica, Scott, Mitchell, Cassandra, Alex" he labeled the sea of faces and pulled me along without slowing. "In photography, we're all homey's," he told me, pulling me into a seat towards the back of the classroom. "Just watch me and you'll be the sweetheart of the darkroom."

"Carlson," Mr. Blair ordered, not looking up from the board, "Zip it."

I laughed, something I had not expected to do today.

_Okay_, I thought, pulling out a clean sheet of paper for notes. _This might not be so awful, after all._


	4. Chapter 4

When I got home after school, I immediately started dinner. I always made dinner because a) if I made dinner, I didn't have to clean up or wash dished, and b) I was the only one in the family who could actually cook.

Soy-steaks sounded good. I loved soy, because it tasted exactly like the real thing. Not that I would eat meat flavored bean curd, but, ever since I had taken over the grocery shopping as well as the cooking, Mom and Andy hadn't had a real bite of meat unless they ordered out. Not that they knew that, and I didn't plan on telling them any time soon, but still.

I marinated the steaks and let them cook while I made baked potatoes and salad and fruit kabobs.

With my watch set, I left a note on the counter saying that if I wasn't back by 6:45 they should take the steaks out of the oven unless they wanted to eat charcoal or spring for pizza.

Mom had kept me too busy for me to really explore the woods outside our house, and since I had finished my homework in like, ten minutes, I wanted to do recon, to know where I was.

The forest was ancient, beautiful. I instantly wished that I had remembered my camera. Everything was so green, so different from the gray concrete jungles of New York. It was a change I welcomed. I shivered. I was never going back to the big city. There were way too many memories, and none of them good.

A layer of mist covered everything, giving it all an ethereal quality. The moist air felt good against my face, and the smells of the forest - damp earth, wet pine needles, ozone, musk - were a blessing after an entire day of too much axe and perfume.

I had just started humming to myself, caught up in the beauty of the woods when I ran smack dab into something hard and cold and covered in… denim? I looked up, startled, into the face of Jasper whoever-he-really-was.

"Oh, uh, excuse me, Major Whitl - I mean, isn't this majorly beautiful woodland?" I stuttered, having to physically stop myself from saluting by crossing my hands behind my back and looping my thumbs through my belt loops. He was just… he was everything my imagination had made him out to be, except a thousand time more. He was more imposing, more intelligent, more… beautiful.

Confusion and suspicion slid across his face and his eyes narrowed before his features returned to there stiff mask. "What are you doing out her, Miss Steele?" he asked in his singing voice.

I almost melted. _Am I supposed to breath now? _I thought hazily. Was my heart even beating? I felt like a mouse, helpless and paralyzed when it realizes the gaze of the hunting hawk has found it.

The only difference was that no mouse had ever enjoyed it before, of that I was certain.

I managed to dizzily pull myself back from the brink of a full-fletched swoon to give a somewhat intelligible answer. "Uh, I was walking, in the house- I mean woods, because I wanted to see the forest. Exploring."

He nodded once, one hard, jerky nod, before adding sharply, as sharp as honey and velvet can be, and replied, "It's not safe for a little girl like you to be wondering around in the woods. Who knows what big, bad, wolf will come and gobble her up?" he said, the sarcasm dripping from every word, his perfect lips curling back from his teeth, but there was a real threat there.

He smiled, but it was the smile of a predator. Okay, it's the smile of an incredibly good-looking predator with a really nice jaw line. I shuddered, stuffing my hands deep into the pockets of my jacket.

But that little bit of nasty insultingness knocked the last bit of fog from my brain, and I switched from stupid to hostile in about a second. I didn't like people threatening me, no matter how subtle said threat may be. "And which dwarf are you? Dopey? Or Grumpy?"

His eyes flashed, but before he could open his mouth my watched beeped, and I swore angrily and looked up at him. "Sorry, but I've been enjoying this conversation so much that I lost track of time. I need to get going." I turned without another word and stalked away, back towards home, anger fusing my bones together in an almost board-like stiffness.

The next morning, I got up fifteen minutes before school started, unwilling to end the first full night's sleep I had had in weeks. I pulled on a pair of checkered black and grey leggings with my lace up biker boots with a wedge heel short enough for me to kick but or run in and still look fly. I debated for a moment before deciding on a jet black tunic with grey stitching and an embroidered wolf on the front that came just above my knees.

I refused to think that the reason I was getting dressed up a little nicer than usual - I even took the time to braid the colored streaks in my hair - for Jasper. That would be foolish; he had shown no preference towards me. In fact, he seemed to take pains to avoid me.

I barely made it to the classroom before the bell rang. I would have gotten their earlier, but I had to wait for Andy to haul is lazy ass out of bed. He is such a loser.

First period was a breeze. Second period, I went back to my spot next to Jasper, passing my homework to the closest person - still a desk away. I swear, if he didn't creep me out so much, I would hang around Jasper all the time just to keep the other students away from me. He worked better than the can of Mace I had in my backpack, anyway - to have it handed to the teacher at the front of the room.

I kept waiting for the hand clenched tight on his knee to relax, or for him to do something other than look at me like he didn't understand what was happening to him. But, as far as I knew, he never looked away, and every time I snuck a glance at him from the corner of my eye little pulses of heated excitement rippled up my arms.

We both made our hastened exit the second the bell rang, but it turned out that we were both headed towards the gym. Him being there to see me fall in the mud and generally just unleash the powers of clumsiness on the rest of the class just made it worse, and I was even more of a threat to the other students.

Okay, so maybe I didn't necessarily _have_ to take the other people down with me, but who can blame a girl for wanting to spread around the embarrassment? And besides, mudpacks were excellent for your pores. Just think of the favor I was doing for them.

While walking back to the locker room, I muttered to myself, "Chaos, panic, disorder - my work here is done."

But fourth period was just as weird, if not weirder. Emmett and Rosalie stared at me, too, like they were trying to figure out some puzzle and there was no hint button for them to click.

I was relieved when I got away from them and finally made it to lunch. I hadn't noticed them yesterday, I had been to hungry, but today I saw that Jasper and Rosalie and Emmett were sitting with three others: a bronze-haired boy, a girl with waist-length dark hair, and a younger looking girl with bronze ringlets. She stood out, with her flushed skin and brown eyes. The others all had golden eyes and chalky skin with bruise-like shadows under their eyes.

I sat at the table I now thought as mine, and Dallas - Dally, as he insisted he be called - joined me shortly. The first thing I did was ask him about the Cullens and the Hale's.

"Oh," he said, like he had expected this to come up. That rankled me. I didn't like anyone to be able to predict or guess my intentions. "Those are Dr. and Mrs. Cullens foster children. There's Bella and Emmett Cullen, the dark haired ones, and then Edward and Renesmee Mason, his sister. They're the ones with reddish brown hair. The two blonde ones are the Hale twins. They moved here from Washington about a year ago. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, no reason," I said casually. "I just have classes with three of them, and they seemed a bit… odd," I said as I lit my French fries on fire with my disposable skull Zippo put them out in my cranberry juice before tossing them into my mouth. Dally was staring at me like I had grown another arm out of the back of my neck and it was waving at him. "What?" I said. So I have some unusual eating methods. Lynch me. "They were undercooked."

He just laughed and shook his head. "You're alright, kid."

Today I had time to finish my lunch completely, and Dally and I chatted generically. I didn't mind listening to him, but if he asked me a question about myself, I changed the subject as subtly as possible.

When the bell sent the rest of the students scurrying to their designated classrooms, I stumbled to lit., brooding. I am a very good brooder. I am the Tiger Woods of brooding.

Mrs. Trammell told us all to shut up, then to open our books to page 87. I cursed, remembering that I had left my book on the kitchen table. Hoping she wouldn't notice, I pretended to be getting out my book like the rest of the goody-goody kids.

Just as I was starting to panic, however, Jasper slid his book over to the middle of the desks so I could see it. I sighed in relief. For all his weirdness, he still had a heart.

_Of course he does, _a voice snapped, though it was so musical that it hardly seemed angry. I hadn't heard from the voice since yesterday, and I assumed that it had just been because of stress. _He has a heart, he's just got so many walls around it, like you, that he seems not to have one. It's just your scent that's driving him crazy. He's not quite sure just what to think of you yet, though. You're a mystery to him. _

_Yeah, okay… _I thought, trying not to annoy the creepy voice in my head, _my scent…_

Before I could continue my argument with the voice, though, Mrs. Trammell said, "Mrs. Steele, perhaps you could read the next passage for us."

My head snapped up, then down, trying to figure out where the heck we were, when Jasper tapped a spot on the paper. Ironically enough, it was where Juliet was having a conversation with herself.

Sound familiar, ne?

"What is in a name? That by which we call a rose would smell as sweet?…" my voice was beautiful, even to my own ears. Reading aloud and singing suited my voice perfectly, and I had the class spellbound.

The bell rang a while later, and I darted out of the classroom, surprising myself by making it out the door before Jasper. He caught up with me down the hall, though, and grabbed my shoulder gently. The cold of his hand - he had a musicians hands, I noticed, with long, slender fingers - seeped through the thin material of my jacket, and I automatically flinched away from the alien cold, stumbling into the row of lockers.

He ignored my reaction, instead crowding me against the wall, his hands on either side of my face. I was frozen like an ice sculpture, feeling trapped. My heart was beating like a drum in my throat, it's ringing filling my ears. It was like I had been stung by a paralyzing spider. It was all I could do just to stand.

"How do you know?" he demanded, his honey-velvet voice tight with some controlled emotion. A lock of golden-blond hair fell over his eyes, and he pushed it back impatiently. I was surprised by how much _I_ wanted to be the one to run my fingers through his hair. I wondered if it was a silky as it looked…

"How do I know what?" I stammered almost sleepily. I tried to shake it off, feeling a spike of anger that anyone could affect me in this way.

"Who I am. Who told you?" He demanded. Well, even if I hadn't been certain of who he was, he just confirmed it for me now.

A shiver of cold slithered down my spine. Did he know that I knew? Did he know that I knew that he knew that I knew? Ow. I was giving myself a migraine to top it all off. "You're Jasper W-Hale," I said, cursing myself for stumbling over his assumed last name. I was not helping my case.

He nodded, as if I had just confirmed his suspicions, then opened his mouth to speak again, but the bell rang - saved by the bell; how cliché - and I ducked under his arm, backing away. "I-I have to get to class. I can't be late." then I turned and fled.


End file.
